


When I'm Around Her

by HectorRashbaum (FifteenDozenTimes)



Category: Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...
Genre: Genderswap, Other, Sexswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-14
Updated: 2009-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/HectorRashbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out coming to terms with a shift in sexual orientation isn't any easier the second time around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I'm Around Her

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [anon_lovefest](http://community.livejournal.com/anon_lovefest/).

As much as Mike likes having Kevin around, it turns out Kevin and Bill are kind of a scary combination. And combinations that are scary under normal circumstances don't exactly become less terrifying on a crowded bus for long periods of time. They really need constant supervision, but Mike's just one guy against a dorky, overly enthusiastic, completely ridiculous force of nature.

Besides, how much trouble could they get in at some kind of local fair thing for a couple hours?

"She wasn't a bad witch, bad witches are ugly," Kevin's saying, when he opens the door to their hotel room.

"Preaching to the choir, man," Bill says, hops onto the bed next to Mike. "Miss us?"

Mike just grunts, 'cause whatever he says Bill'll take as a yes, doesn't look up from his book. Kevin clambers onto the bed, only capable of moving with any coordination when he's dancing or fucking, presses a sticky kiss to Mike's neck.

"Are you wearing fucking lip gloss?"

"No. Some woman was selling potions; Bill dared me to try one and it was kind of thick."

Mike arches an eyebrow at him, because who the fuck ever does anything Bill dares them to do, they've _had_ this talk, but Kevin just grins and kisses his neck again. Mike turns the arched-eyebrow look on Bill. "Don't you have someone else to harass for a while?"

"You mean I don't get to watch?" Bill asks, but he's already halfway to the door, well out of smacking range.

\- - - - - -

Kevin knows, logically, that drinking foreign substances out of vaguely-labeled bottles sold by some woman claiming to be a witch wasn't the best idea. But he's just getting used to being responsible for himself, for not having a big long list of ways to act and things he can and can't do, so maybe he overcompensates sometimes. And Bill's always been weirdly protective of him, so he's generally more inclined to be reckless when it's Bill's idea, rather than someone who thinks it's funny to mess with Baby Lamb Jonas or whatever it is they're calling him now.

But. Kevin's hips are weirdly achy, and one of his internal organs or another is cramping up, just below his bellybutton, and his chest feels all heavy – from the outside, not the inside, like he's got something hanging off his neck. So this time he might have to admit Mike's right, that Bill isn't some kind of omniscient wonder who can just _know_ his ideas for stupid fun are going to turn out consequence-free.

When he gets up and stumbles into the bathroom, thinking maybe it's not too late to get rid of whatever of the potion is left in his stomach, if there even is any left, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Except it's not him, there's a woman looking back at him, a woman whose face looks an awful lot like his but whose body, obviously, doesn't.

It's probably weird that the first thought in his head when he starts hollering for Mike is that he doesn't have to be ashamed, right now, about how girly his voice gets when he's upset.

\- - - - - -

Mike waits for Kevin to freak himself – herself? Fuck – into exhaustion, collapse against him and fall into a fitful sleep before he calls Bill.

"Whoa," is all Bill says, when he sees Kevin. "I – whoa."

"I'm going to kill you."

"This – you can't blame me! How the fuck was I supposed to know fruity drinks in cheesy plastic bottles would _actually work_?"

"Shut up, don't wake him up. Her up. Fuck."

"I – how – whoa. This is – whoa."

Mike just glares, but deflates after a second; hasn't decided yet whether he called Bill over to yell at him, or because Bill's always who he goes to when shit gets bad, but he doesn't have the energy right now to be angry, so...decision made. "I don't – fuck."

Bill sits down gently on the side of the bed, frowns when Kevin twitches a little in her sleep, face screwed up tight instead of relaxed. "I can try to find the witch lady again, in the morning. I didn't – I wouldn't have – I didn't _know_, fuck."

"I know."

"He – she's kind of hot, though," Bill says, and this is absolutely no fucking time to be making jokes but Mike can feel the laughter welling up in his chest, hysterical and overwhelming.

\- - - - - - -

Kevin can't stop staring at himself, which is a totally new thing for him – he almost wishes he'd done this before, stripped down and looked in a mirror so he could compare all the differences, not just the obvious ones. There are stretchmarks on his new breasts, skin tight and tender from stretching out so much overnight. He'd had to pull the drawstring on his pajama pants tighter when he first got up, waist more defined than before, but his hips had been stretching the fabric just a little, just enough to notice.

Other than that, he still looks the same, sort of – he can tell it's him. The image in the mirror, at least when he has his clothes on, or when he's only looking from the neck up, isn't even as jarring as it was when he finally stopped straightening his hair, saw himself with it long and curly for the first time.

"Wow," Mike says, makes Kevin jump and blush. His first instinct is to grab a towel, cover himself up, which – he'd only just gotten over being weird about being naked in front of Mike, as opposed to naked underneath Mike. He'd been proud of that.

"Is that a good wow?" Kevin asks, reaches for the coffee Mike's holding out to him instead of a towel.

"I...don't know."

Kevin sighs, looks back at himself in the mirror. He'd spent the morning shaving, because whatever turned him into a girl didn't get rid of all the hair he already had, and _that_ was weird. Hopefully no more would grow. Or, better, he wouldn't be a girl for much longer.

"I'm gay, Kevin," Mike says, like he has to force the words out, like he's admitting to something Kevin doesn't already know.

"I know," is all he says, all he can think to say.

\- - - - - -

The look on Bill's face says everything before he says a word; Mike's so fucking glad Kevin's in the shower, so he doesn't have to see how fucking hopeless Bill looks.

"Um, I found her," he says, tentative, and Mike sits down – his first instinct is to tell Bill to shut the fuck up until he has a drink, but first he'd have to find a drink, so he just sits. "And, uh, it's – she says it's irreversible. And that you don't fuck with magic if you're not prepared for the consequences. And...mostly that it's irreversible."

"Bullshit."

"I thought she might be fucking with me, y'know, 'cause we were goofing around with this shit she takes seriously, but I had Chiz go up separately, ask her about it, and she told him the same thing – there's a potion like the one Kevin drank, that'll turn a girl into a guy, but changing too much can really fuck with someone, apparently, so it doesn't – whatever turns someone stops them from turning any more."

"That's _bullshit_."

Bill looks absolutely fucking miserable, and Mike's doing his best to be angry at everything but Bill, but...fuck. Fuck.

"I don't know what else – I'm sorry."

Mike sighs, runs a hand through his hair so violently he pulls some of it out. "I know."

The bathroom door creaks open, Kevin standing there wrapped up tight in a towel. Mike's been desperate for him before, when they're apart for too long, when he's just watched Kevin onstage act like he's in a band that rocks way harder than the fucking Jonas Brothers, had plenty of times where all he wanted in life was to see Kevin, but he's _never_ wanted to see that pale chest with too much hair more than he does right this second.

\- - - - - -

None of Kevin's clothes fit; when the best he can do is one of his henleys, stretched obscenely tight over his chest, buttons he can't do up revealing way too much cleavage, that's the first time he cries. And Mike's just standing there, watching him, and Kevin can't even read the look on his face but he's fairly sure it's pity, and that makes his cheeks flare up with heat, which probably makes his stupid ugly crying face look even better.

And then Mike – Mike his boyfriend, his gay boyfriend, who doesn't like women, isn't gonna want a woman, isn't gonna want Kevin anymore – pulls Kevin in, hugs him tight, rocks him a little and that just makes him cry harder, 'cause how many more of these hugs is he gonna get?

"I love you," Mike says, and what the fuck does that even _matter_ right now, but it still feels good to hear it, and if he could just shut down his brain for thirty fucking seconds maybe he could pretend this is okay.

"You're gay," Kevin says, like he needs to, like neither of them know it; his voice is muffled in Mike's shirt, already damp with tears.

"I know," he says, and his arms tighten around Kevin, and Mike gives _the best hugs ever_. "I love you."

\- - - - - -

Mike can't tell if it's guilt or just Bill's natural protectiveness, but it's Bill who scrounges up a t-shirt that doesn't stretch so much you can see Kevin's nipples through it, Bill who finds a jacket in Kevin's stuff that's long enough to hide the way his pants keep riding too low on his waist, Bill who takes him clothes shopping once he feels dressed enough to leave the room.

And maybe it's Mike who should be doing all of that, but Mike's been holding it together for way more hours than he would've guessed he could, and all Mike's capable of right now is hunting down Siska and drinking till he can't see colors any more.

Not that Siska actually lets him, because Siska is both a douchebag and an excellent friend. But he does let Mike have a couple drinks, let him break the fuck down and confess every single one of his insecurities, best of all, lets him do that without a single fucking word of judgement, or pity, or anything at all.

And when Kevin gets back, in a button-down and jeans that might actually be more masculine than most of the shit he wore before ("We bought her some dresses," Bill tells him, "but she's not quite ready to embrace it that much, yet."), Mike's ready to pretend he's coping again.

\- - - - - -

"I can get my own room, if you want," Kevin says, legitimately surprised when Mike rolls his eyes, tugs him – her, Kevin's a her now, pronouns _suck_ \- down on the bed.

"Shut up," he says, wraps his arms around her. "It's fine. I want you here."

Kevin ducks his - _her_ \- leans against Mike, closes her eyes and just breathes him in for a minute. "I just - "

"We're gonna figure this out. We can't do that if you're gonna pretend it's already all figured out."

Kevin just nods, burrows into Mike the way she always has. With her eyes closed, it doesn't even feel any different; the lean solidness of Mike's chest is exactly the same, and she just wraps her arms tighter around him, prays harder than she ever has in her life that he's right, that they can figure this out.

\- - - - - -

Probably the worst possible time for this to happen to Kevin was when they were headed for the same city as Cobra; Mike loves the fuck out of Gabe, but can't imagine a single fucking person who'd be less sensitive about Kevin's transformation into a busty woman. Not that he's an ass on purpose, he just – fuck, he tends to get Kevin all blushy and embarrassed on Kevin's best days.

But Mike's underestimated his friends, which is rare for him; before Gabe even _sees_ Kevin, Bill's intercepted him with alcohol and board games, and Victoria's got Kevin by the wrist, dragging him off somewhere to "teach him a thing or two."

Mike plays three games of Monopoly with Gabe and Ryland and Bill, not getting anywhere near as drunk as he'd like to ("Young man," Gabe says, "that's no fucking way to deal with your problems," and then pours half a bottle of vodka into his own glass) before Victoria and Kevin come back; Gabe wolf-whistles, like he always does, offers to kick Suarez out so they'll have a vacancy Kevin can fill ("Fuck you, shithead, I'm irreplaceable."), like he always does, and Mike makes a note not to underestimate his stupid awesome friends anymore.

\- - - - - -

"Is this figuring it out?" Kevin asks, a week later, when Mike's about to climb into bed (fully dressed – Kevin can't remember the last time he saw Mike in pajamas at all, much less wearing them every night). "Just pretending nothing's wrong and we don't have to talk about it, like there's nothing weird about you barely touching me? If you can't do it, Mike, you can't, but if that's the case...don't tell me you can."

Kevin's wearing a nightie tonight, the first time she's worn something she couldn't have as a man. It doesn't feel as weird as maybe she wishes it would – not that she wants to feel horrible and awkward for the rest of her life, but some confirmation that yeah, she's a man, not a woman, and this isn't normal, that would be nice.

"Kevin - "

"I don't want you to pity me. And if you have to – I don't want you doing anything just out of pity. At least respect me that much."

"I respect you."

"You just don't think I can handle getting dumped."

Mike sighs, gets back out of bed, takes a few steps towards Kevin but doesn't get into her space the way he usually does. "I don't want to dump you."

"I really want to believe that," Kevin says, closes her eyes because she can't even look at him right now, the way he's looking at her; she's tearing up, again, and she doesn't _want_ to, fuck, not when she's trying as hard as she can to be strong for once.

"What the fuck would you do, Kevin? You think if this was the other way around, you'd be totally fucking okay, wouldn't have a single fucking issue?"

"If you love me - "

"There's no _if_, goddammit," Mike says, almost shouting now, and he's moved in, she can feel how close he is. "There is no fucking if. That's not the problem."

Kevin draws a deep, shaky breath, opens her mouth to shout right back at him, but before she can say anything Mike's kissing her, Mike's got one arm around her waist and one in her hair and he's drawing her in, right up against him, and he's _kissing her_, deep and slow, and it's so good she just melts right into him.

\- - - - - -

For the first time in what feels like ages, it takes Mike less than two hours to fall asleep once he's in bed, and he doesn't wake up once during the night. Kevin's body feels so fucking different against his, which is exactly what he was afraid of, exactly why he'd been sleeping on his own side instead of on his back in the middle with her draped over him they way they usually did. But she smells like Kevin, her little wheezy snores are exactly the fucking same, and however different she feels, she's good, she's better, way better than the weird coldness of having no one cuddled against him when there was someone in the bed.

Kevin shifts, blinks up at him with sleepy eyes that don't look any different – the eyebrows above them, yeah, those are a change, but her eyes are still Kevin's eyes, smiles a little and leans up to kiss him.

"I get it," she says, "I mean, I would get it. If you can't – if it's – I wouldn't expect a straight guy to date me when I was – before, and I don't – I've tried dating women, and I know - "

Mike kisses her to shut her up, because she's stopped listening to all his _shut the fuck up_s. "If I was gonna get rid of you, Jonas," he murmurs against her lips – lips that are still the same, that ridiculous small mouth – "I would've done it already."

"No you wouldn't." Why the fuck is it the only time Kevin has a fucking backbone, only time he'll keep arguing, is to fuck with her own head? "You think I'm fragile. You'd suffer until you thought I was over this...trauma, or whatever, 'cause you don't think I can handle two big changes at once."

"Don't tell me what I think."

"I'm right, though."

"Shut the fuck up," he says, and kisses her again.

\- - - - - -

Kevin's thumb hovers over the OK button, Joe's name highlighted in her contacts. She's gonna have to tell him at some point – for once, she's actually happy her parents don't talk to her anymore, small blessings, but she can't just cut her brothers out of her life.

"Car's rented," Bill says, puts a stop to her _should I, shouldn't I_ waffling. He flops down next to her on the bench, looks at her over his sunglasses. "So what's so hush-hush we can't take a cab?"

Kevin doesn't say anything, just shows him the text from Victoria with a store name, an address, and when Bill grins so wide it takes up his whole face she just blushes.

"Dude. Or, lady. If I had a brand new orifice, that's the first place I'd go, too."

Kevin can't possibly blush any more, _why_ did she ask Bill to do this with her. "I – it's not -"

"Too far, shutting up. Your chariot to the land of sex toys awaits, m'lady," he says, hops off the bench and gestures towards the car with a big sweep of his arms. Which, oh yeah, that's why she asked Bill.

Until six months ago, Kevin had really strict – and sometimes weirdly specific – rules about what she could and couldn't do, where she could and couldn't go, sometimes who she could and couldn't be around. And she has – had – all the equipment she needed (okay, really, _Mike_ had all the equipment she needed, still does, it's her that's suddenly falling short) so it probably wouldn't surprise even the most oblivious person on Earth to know Kevin's never been to a sex shop. But Victoria promised her this one was probably the least likely to make her blush so hard her face explodes, so.

"This just _screams_ Gabe," Bill says, grins, waves a pink leopard-print vibrator at Kevin. Kevin who's in way, way over her head, too overwhelmed to even react the way she normally would. "What are you even - " Bill starts, turns to face the wall Kevin's looking at, trails off. "You know, Mike isn't gonna leave you just 'cause you don't have a dick. He might not know that, but I do. And if he was, strapping one on isn't gonna fix things."

"I know," Kevin says, has no idea if Bill knows she's only saying that to the second part, 'cause she honestly doesn't believe the first. "But – I just – I wanted - "

Bill looks at her, more serious than she's used to, turns away just when Kevin's starting to want to duck away from the intensity of his gaze. "Okay," Bill says, walks away to talk to a saleswoman, and half an hour later Kevin's got what she apparently needs and they're leaving.

\- - - - - -

"I thought everyone agreed you and Bill unsupervised can only end in – whoa." Kevin is – whoa, fuck. "I – whoa."

Kevin's standing there in – she's got a t-shirt on, loose enough to almost conceal her chest, but she looks so _naked_, even with that, and she's got – there's a _dick_, she's got a dick jutting out just above the v of her legs, straps running between her legs, around her waist, and – fuck.

"We can – I thought maybe – if we can pretend," Kevin says, voice barely above a whisper, cheeks pink the way they always get when she initiates.

"I don't want to pretend," Mike says, doesn't realize how that probably sounded until Kevin's face falls.

And Kevin just...stands there, looks at Mike with this face that – she looks like she doesn't expect to ever be happy again, and _how many fucking times_ does he have to tell her they can't figure this out if she's just gonna assume the worst?

"Kevin - "

"No, I – shit. I'm sorry, it was stupid, I just – shit. Fuck." It's like saying her name pushed some kind of on button, she just – springs into action, starts tugging frantically at the buckles on her hips, swearing up a fucking storm, and – shit, she's been around Mike so much she's picked up the habit of swearing more than she used to, but not this much.

"Kevin."

"I don't – I can't – stupid fucking thing, I - "

Mike steps towards her, close enough the fake dick brushes his thigh, but she doesn't stop until he grabs her arms, grips maybe tighter than he should. She just looks up at him, tears in her eyes and _fuck_, Mike's never been good with tears.

"Kevin. Stop."

"Please," is all she says, and Mike can't fucking handle the tremor in her voice so he kisses her, hard, tightens his grip on her arms until she whimpers a little into his mouth, and when he pulls back, there are tears on her cheeks but not in her eyes, which – it's something, at least. "I don't know what to do," she says, miserable.

"Me neither," Mike says, turns them so her back's to the bed and walks her backwards till her knees hit and she goes down on her back, and she looks so fucking _confused_, but Mike doesn't know what the fuck else to say so he just starts tugging at the buckles himself, trying to get the stupid fucking strap-on off and what the fuck is this even made of, fuck.

When the stupid thing is loose enough to pull down over her hips he yanks, tosses it aside, crawls onto the bed over her, and Kevin's just staring at him, waiting; she shivers a little when his hands slide under her shirt, up her stomach.

"I've never," Mike says, dips his head to nip at her neck, jaw, bottom lip already plumped-up from her biting down on it, "fucked a woman."

"So you get to be the virgin this time," Kevin says, a little breathless, tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him down for a harsh, desperate kiss.

\- - - - - -

"I love you," Kevin murmurs, presses her lips against sweat-damp skin. When Mike doesn't answer, she sits up a little, looks down at him, tries _really hard_ not to look as panicked as she suddenly feels.

Mike doesn't meet her eyes, just runs his hand down the middle of her chest, between her stretchmarked breasts, over to tickle down her side, over the more defined dip in her waist, her just-noticeably-bigger hips. He looks up at her, then, palm resting rough and warm on her hip.

"I – are you okay?" Kevin asks, wants to ask if _we're_ okay, if that ruined everything, if she was right and they should have pretended, if -

"I love you," Mike says, cuts her off, and for the first time in two weeks there's no part of her that thinks he doesn't mean it.


End file.
